Chapter Text
There was a racket outside the cabin unlike Mason had heard in all his days. The shrill sounds stabbed at his weary mind, cutting away at what little hold he still had on reality. He wanted to fling open the windows and scream at the birds, squirrels and whatever of nature's beasts where disturbing his stupor. If only he could reach into his chest and yank out the lump of anger and hurt that had coalesced there, he would at least then have had something to lob at the nearest offender.
But, he hadn't the strength. Furthermore, he was dubious of his own ability to even wrench himself from his chair at the moment. He felt like it had become part of him, that it's four legs were the only thing keeping him from the floor. That it alone, was the only thing stopping him from curling up into a wretched little ball on the floor
Normally the wood around their small cottage was quiet and peaceful. It was one of the reasons they had picked the location, close enough to the wood to provide, but the safety of not being fully immersed in it. He cursed again. The one time it mattered, the one time he needed that solitude, it mocked him.
He was vaguely aware of the other noises around him as well. More immediate ones. More recognizable ones. There was a hint of quiet conversation coming from the kitchen. His sister. His poor children. The thought of the pain he would soon bring to them broke his heart further. Taking refuge on the floor was looking like a better and better option as each moment past.
The loud trumpet call of an elk in the distance was the last straw. He flew to his feet, ripping himself out of his chair, with a force summoned from gods know where. His legs buckled slightly, threatening to give way as he went to the window, but he didn't stumble. Anger flared within him as the shutters were flung open with similar force.
"Have some respect you foul creatures, my wife is dead!" Even in the impetuousness of his anger, his voice hitched in his tightened throat as he said the words out loud for the first time. After a long moment of cathartic fist shaking and cursing, Mason slumped back into his chair, his rage spent, he was bereft of energy once more.
In the days since Baasha fell ill, Mason stayed faithfully at her side, leaving his post only to tend to the children's needs and usually neglecting his own. Her illness was a cruel trick. If he had not given up adventuring, not stopped practicing his clerical ways, he might have been able to save her. But, he had traded in his sword and shield for hoe and plow, for wife and children.
Sinking down deeper into his chair, Mason tried to relax, but found his body still tense and rigid. He spared the barest of sidelong glances at Baasha's still form on the bed and moved his hand to hers, gently prying the glass vial from her grasp. Swirling the liquid around inside, he held it up to the light for inspection. The thick mercurial like mixture clung to the glass. His expression was blank as he tried to force himself not to have any opinion about the contents of the vial.
With complete disregard for his heart's wishes, his mind forced himself back to their conversation the night before. Their last conversation.
"Husband?" Baasha's voice was hoarse, yet soft. Her eyes were open, but unfocused, as she stared up at the ceiling.
"I'm here, dear one." Mason replied, moving from his chair to the edge of the bed to sit beside her. "What can I get you?" His voice was equally soft, equally hoarse from the painful lump in his throat.
"There's something I need to tell you...before I die. I need to leave this land with a clear conscience." She let her head roll to the side towards his voice.
"You don't need to trouble yourself with those thoughts." he took up her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You'll pull through this soon and be back to driving me mad in no time at all." He cracked the smallest of smiles, but it didn't reach his grief-stricken eyes.
Her smile was more genuine and natural, "Your lie is a kind one, but we both know it is just that."
Mason let go of the breath he had been holding tight within his chest and the resulting sigh seemed to deflate him.
"Please go to my old pack, the one from before Brynnan was born. There is a small vial of silver liquid. Would you bring it to me, please."
"Now?" He asked, looking more than a little confused. It sounded like she was asking for a healing potion, but they had already tried every concoction and ritual under the sun.
"Yes, please. It's important."
He gave her hand another, gentle squeeze and stood. Pushing his hands up his face, he dried his eyes. It was an odd request, but he wasn't going to argue with her, not now.
The items from their past that had been deemed worthy enough to save, but that they had no real use for, had been packed away in an old chest at the foot of their bed. Mason dug down through the layers of trinkets and memories, a few items causing a smile to tug at his lips. Had it been any other moment in time, he would have dragged them out and relived their stories with his wife. He would have made her laugh, and fallen in love with her all over again.
"Is this it?" Mason asked, holding up a small leather box with a silver clasp. He had a vague recollection of seeing her with it in Barovia. Or, right after, perhaps.
"The one with the sliver lock, yes." She replied, unable to lift her head fully.
He nodded, and went back to his spot on the bed beside her. Another deep sigh puffed his bangs up out of his eyes. Placing it on her chest, where she could reach it, fingers moved to unlatch the clasp. Immediately, Baasha's hands moved to stop him.
"Mason, you may be upset with me when you hear what I have to say." Her voice was weak, but held an unmistakable degree of determination.
"Impossible." He replied, clicking his tongue at her in admonishment.
Baasha did her best to take a full, deep breath. The resulting wheeze caused Mason to cringe. "I've kept something from you all these years. Something I had no right to withhold. All I ask is for you to know I did it out of love...and fear."
"Fear?" Mason echoed, his brows knitting in confusion.
She dipped her head as best she could in a single nod. "Do you remember Alleria?"
He nodded in return, "Of course, the Elf druid." She hadn't crossed his mind in well over a ten year. "Why would you fear her? Don't get me wrong, I recall her being formidable in battle, but I always thought the two of you got along well enough." He chuckled and shook his head as he thought back to those days, "It's not like you have Drow blood."
Mason's comment pushed aside the pain of the task at hand for a moment, and Baasha's pale face brightened just barely. "Poor Tallonon, I don't think she spoke a single word to him, right up to the very end." She said, turning the box over and over in her hands absently, as she spoke.
"Then what?" Mason pressed, causing the momentary flicker of levity from his wife's face to disappear fully.
"After you stepped through the gateway home, but before I had a chance to join you, Alleria gave me this." With that said, she finally opened the small box and took out the vial that was carefully packed inside. "It holds the memories Strahd stole from you. Your true memories." She explained, holding the vial out to her husband.
He shook his head, holding up a hand to rebuff the offered vial. "No, I told her then, memories or not, there could have been nothing true between her and I. I would never bind myself to an Elf. That way leads only to sadness and heartbreak."
His voice had taken on a firmness, that Baasha knew meant end of discussion. But not this time. She would not obey that tone. "This is my dying wish, Mason. I told you I will not take this to my grave." She looked at him with damp eyes. "Please, hear me out."
And he melted, emotionally and physically, slumping down beside her wasting form. "Of course, continue..."
"I don't know why she didn't give you them herself. I can only imagine she delayed waiting for the right moment, found none, and then you were gone.
He could do no more than nod as he listened. This was not how he wanted to spend the end of their time together.
"I should have told you all those years ago. I should have.... done something, but I was afraid you'd leave once you remembered."
He shook his head, "Never, Baasha. I know the words may sound feeble, but I love you with all my heart, you are my wife, the mother of my children. I could never have left you."
"I don't doubt your feelings, Mason, I know they are true, but, they would have never happened...never grown into what they are, if it had not been for that interruption. I...I..." This was the part she was truly ashamed to admit to him, "And I knew that you and she were together. I could have at least claimed ignorance if you had both kept it a secret, but..." Her words trailed off, her throat parched with emotion. "Strahd did what he did, but I'm to blame for keeping you apart." She added a moment after, her voice barely a whisper.
If it had been sixteen years ago, and they were freshly returned from that accursed land, then he might have had a different reaction. "It doesn't matter, Baasha. It is what it is, this is where life has brought us to, and I have no regrets..." His head hung, eyes closing for a moment. "...other than the obvious, of course."
When he finally lifted his head, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was prepared, mentally, to argue him into submission. He was also painfully aware, she had not the strength for a prolonged argument let in her. As he watched her, he could almost see her strength fading away, from moment to moment.
"Rest, dear." He said softly, putting vial and box aside, to pull the covers up around her more tightly. "You've said what was needed to be said, and I bare you no ill will at all. Put the whole thing out of your mind." Her response was a simple smile, no words, but full understanding that the matter was indeed, done with.